


Within Bounds

by Immortalnite



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Elves, Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, cant add everything yet bc spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-14 01:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortalnite/pseuds/Immortalnite
Summary: It was the middle of winter when all the crops across the kingdom failed. The Winter Solstice, in fact, though almost no one knew that.





	1. Chapter 1

It was the middle of winter when all the crops across the kingdom failed. The Winter Solstice, in fact, though almost no one knew that. Everyone just woke up one morning to find that their winter crops of hardy buckwheat and onions had withered overnight.

Fortunately, the silos were still full from the fall harvest, which had been especially fruitful. The king's royal storage was completely stocked, advisers were confident they could keep the people fed for at least a year before turning to rations. They'd enjoyed successive years of plentiful harvests, a lasting peace with most of the neighbouring kingdoms, and safe trade routes. People assumed their crops had just been struck by a new sort of blight that would die out as quickly as the buckwheat had. Besides, the livestock was still healthy and happy. The crop issue was thought to be an unfortunate happenstance, but nothing dangerous, nothing to be concerned over. No one was worried about the sudden, simultaneous crop failure. Almost no one, anyway.

Prince Roman, undefeated tournament champion for seven years running, man of the people, bastard son of the king and last in the line of succession, was absolutely terrified about it.

He slipped out of the castle in the early morning hours when the news was first brought to the castle, undetected as always. The nobles never bothered with him because of his lineage and proximity to the crown (or lack thereof), so he went unnoticed as he slipped out through the servant's entrance. He always made a point to be courteous to those employed at the castle, so the cooks were more than happy to slip him some bread and fruit for his breakfast and turn a blind eye to his escape. He thanked them and ducked out of the short door that lead to the stables.

A stablehand was sleeping in a pile of hay by the tack, and Roman made sure to tip toe around the boy as to not disturb his rest. He grabbed a soft blanket and the plainest saddle he could find, plus a matching simple bridal.

He headed back into the stables, bypassing the eager, regal stallions that the knights used and the tall, finely groomed horses reserved for his brothers. From the second to last stall, his mare heard his coming and poked her head out, shaking her mane and sneezing by way of greeting.

"Hey, Mouse." Roman smiled and reached out to pet her soft grey nose. She knocked her face into his chest and he let out a soft laugh, pulling out an apple he'd stowed away in his coat for her. She was spoiled, no doubt, but that was his own fault. Four years ago, his father had allowed him to pick any horse to claim as his own, a rare boon from the publicly distant king, and Roman had chosen a pregnant mare. The day after the mare had given birth, the eldest of Roman's legitimate half brothers had snuck in and murdered the mother. Because it was the word of the bastard prince against that of Crown Prince Amir, Roman could do nothing about it. He turned his grief into vigilance and raised the orphaned foal as best he could, with the assistance of the stablemaster. Mouse was not the biggest, nor the strongest, nor the most regal of the horses in the stable, but Roman would wager she was the smartest. And the most loyal.

She waited patiently as he saddled her and swung himself up onto her back. Together, they rode out into the streets lined with lanterns. The sky began to lighten just as Roman reached the city gates, the portcullis open and the guards asleep. It was fortunate the kingdom had been at peace for so long. Roman and Mouse made it out into the countryside as dawn finally broke, revealing that the rider's news had been correct.

The fields lay barren and cold, shrivelled brown frosted over with ice that shouldn't have been enough to kill the crops. Roman guided Mouse over to a farmer's small house, dismounting to examine the dead plants more closely.

The stems crinkled and crumbled under his gloved fingers, far too brittle for how long they'd supposedly been dead. Aside from the brown of death, there was no discolouration to suggest a blight. No holes in the leaves to suggest an infestation.

No sign at all that anything strange had happened. It seemed as though the plants had simply died. But that wasn't how things worked, Roman knew. He might not be a farmer himself, but he'd ridden through the fields not too long ago and everything had appeared healthy and green. Plus, if the failure was truly kingdom-wide? That could only be bad. Roman stood up and looked out across the fields on both sides of him. Brown and white stretched out as far as he could see. Roman wiped his fingers off on his pants and decided he'd better consult an expert on these things.

Giving Mouse's shoulder a firm pat, he walked up to the door of the house. In the roof, steam puffed out of the chimney, so Roman hoped he wasn't waking anyone up. He raised a fist and gave a few knocks. There was a muffled crash like a pot dropping inside and a child's fearful face appeared in the crack between the door and the frame. Their expression brightened quickly and the door was yanked open.

"Prince Roman!" They cried.

Roman let himself smile and bowed to the child, grinning as they giggled and bowed back.

"Hello, young one. Are your parents home?" Roman knelt down to look them in the eye. The child nodded and disappeared into the house, leaving the door open behind them. Roman stepped over the threshold cautiously, smiling warmly as the child returned with an older woman wringing a towel between calloused hands.

"What can I do for you, my prince?" She asked.

Roman waved his hand. "You don't need to worry about formalities, my lady. I just wanted to ask you some questions."

The woman frowned and tucked the towel into her apron before shooing the child away. "Is this about the crops?"

Roman nodded gravely. "When did you first notice it?"

She sighed. "I noticed when I got up and went to the well. The old man down the road, though, he claims to have noticed during the night when he got up to take a piss."

"When you went to sleep last night, were the crops alive then? Showing any signs of illness?"

"None at all. They were strong and healthy." She paused and let out a bitter laugh. "Guess I didn't look hard enough. We'll be alright, though."

Roman smoothed his face over, carefully crafting a blank expression. "You will. Thank you for entertaining my questions. I bid you a good day, madam."

He bowed and she curtseyed, waving him off cheerfully as he pulled himself back up onto Mouse and headed back for the capital.

The guards were awake by the time he reached the gates, one of them startling when they recognised him.

"Prince, you've returned!" The guard bowed hastily. "The King requested your presence as soon as you got back."

Roman nodded, keeping his face still blank. Of course his father wanted to see him now.

Mouse already knew where they were headed once the had reached the gates, so Roman didn't even need to guide her through the city streets to the stables. He dismounted and took off her saddle and reins, then giving her a thorough brush. He could absolutely stall his audience with his father by spoiling his horse. One of the stablehands had left him an apple sitting on the ledge in her stall, something they occasionally would do when they noticed Roman was out with her. He suspected it was from the boy he'd let sleep earlier.

He fed it to Mouse, who accepted the treat happily, and reflected sardonically on all of the good things that came out of treating the servants like the actual people they were, and not the dirt that most of the nobles seemed to think they were.

When Mouse finished eating, and Roman could no longer find any reason to stay back, he trudged up to the castle. This time he took the front entrance, knowing his father would find some way to bar him from the servant's entrance if he discovered Roman's use of it. A few knights that were lounging in the halls on "guard duty" gave him a laughing once over. Roman rolled his eyes after he passed them. Another one of his half brothers, Duran, was captain of the knights, so the whole guard knew they could get away with hating him openly.

To be honest, Roman wasn't sure why his five younger half brothers all seemed to hate him. Sure, he was technically his father's eldest son, but his mother's identity was known only to the King, putting Roman solidly out of the line of succession. He was a bastard, and no threat to them. And yet, they all seemed to feel like they had something they needed to prove to him. Even their mother, Queen Jennifer, was uncomfortably cool towards him.

Roman made his steps as small as possible as he entered the long hallway that lead to the royal bedchambers.

Maybe it was because he'd won every tourney since he was 13? A handful of times, he’d had to face down Lahey or Kevin or Gwydre during a round, and he’d beaten them with ease. Roman didn't see how it was his fault that no one seemed able to land a hit on him. He supposed there might be some tension from seeing his own coat of arms displayed at the top of the board all the time. Maybe his brothers felt it was some sort of mockery, seeing the royal coat of arms marred by the baton sinister, the red sash across the shield that marked him as a bastard according to the rules of heraldry. Again, Roman didn't see how that was his fault, though.

His traitorous feet stopped in front of the King's bedroom door.

Roman sighed and raised a fist, knocking firmly on the wood.

"Come in." A deep muffled voice answered.

Roman steeled himself and pushed, his eyes automatically scanning the room for his father.

The King stood with his back to the door, staring out a window that was barely wider than his shoulders.

"I trust your ride went smoothly." The King's voice left no room for argument. "Did you find anything of interest?"

"I merely wished to see the news for myself, my lord." Roman answered stiffly.

"And did you?"

"I did."

The King turned to look at him, and Roman noticed the dark shadows under his father's eyes. His surprise must have shown on his face, because his father raised an eyebrow and let out a hollow laugh.

"Roman, I called you here to tell you something very important. Before we continue, I need your word that you will speak not of this to anyone besides me, no matter what choice you may make." There was tension in his father's shoulders and jaw, something Roman had not seen in a long time.

"I- yes. You have my word. I swear it on my life." Roman was confused, but that seemed to be what his father needed to hear.

"Before you were born, things were different in this kingdom. My father allowed certain creatures to infest our lands in good faith, believing no harm would come of it." The King spun back to look out the window, his hands clasped behind his back, knuckles white. "He was wrong to do so, and I was forced to correct his mistakes when they cost him his life. I seem to have forgotten one, however."

The King turned his head to look at the ground. "I had assumed it would cause no trouble. I guess that was foolish of me."

"What are you talking about?" Roman stepped forward to stand beside him. He usually wouldn't be this informal, but there was something terribly off about the King's behaviour.

"There was... A sorcerer once. An elf. My father allowed the fae to roam our lands freely once, and this sorcerer was among them."

Roman nodded hesitantly. He knew that the elves had once mingled with them, living among them until something (the history books were never clear on what) had sparked a war between the fair folk and the humans. He knew the elves had eventually surrendered the war, withdrawing and sealing themselves in a forest on the eastern border. But the war, as far as he’d heard, had been a normal steel-and-blood war. No talk of magic, of sorcerers.

"He was obsessed with gaining power, and he seemed invincible. The more we tried to hurt him, the more we seemed to suffer. Another elf, also an adept sorcerer, managed to help us defeat him." His father's hands were shaking. Roman wondered who he meant by 'us.'

"You think this person has something to do with the crops dying." Roman blurted out, pieces starting to click together in his head. "And you want me to do something about it."

The King nodded, his face weary. "You must try to find the other elf who helped us once. I do not know if he is still alive, but he was the only one strong enough to defeat the sorcerer."

Dreading the answer, Roman asked, "And where is this elf now?"

The King sighed. "His name is Virgil, and he is where the rest of the elves are now. In the Darkling Forest."

Roman's hands clenched into fists at his side.

"Right, ok. So you want me to go into the Darkling Forest in search of an elf who helped you once, who you haven't seen since, to help you again with the crop failure that you've been outwardly proclaiming as just a blight and nothing to worry about, that you now are saying is actually a curse from a power hungry sorcerer. Just to be clear, we're talking about the same Darkling Forest that is surrounded by thick vines, the same Darkling Forest that no human who ventures into ever has returned from? That Darkling Forest?"

There was something in the King's eyes when he faced Roman, but it was gone too quickly for him to identify. "If you accept, I will have my knights escort you to the edge of the forest. You are the only one who can save our people."

It was too much for Roman. "Right, the knights who answer to your other son. I am a bastard, father, or have you forgotten? I am not in line for your crown, you don't have to try quite so hard to get rid of me." Roman spun on his heel and strode swiftly towards the door. He'd pay for it later, surely, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm gonna be on vacation for the next few weeks and I'll be away from my computer during that time. Hopefully I'll get some writing done on my phone but I won't be able to post any new chapters. So this is going to be on a mini break until the 23rd at the very latest. There is a small chance I'll be able to put something out on the 16th but please don't hold me to that.

Roman shut his own chamber doors with a boom, slamming the deadlock across them. His chamber was much smaller, less room for angrily pacing, but he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. He wished he could leave the palace. Not just for a quick ride, but forever. Roman wished he could walk out the doors, with only a small bundle of belongings and Mouse, walk out and never look back. He wished he could settle out in the city, or maybe in a farming town. He could be the sheriff, or a rogue mercenary, and protect the people that he loved for a living. He just wanted to go somewhere without haughty nobles, condescending guards, and murderous family members. Somewhere he could just be the Roman that people loved, the Roman that children were happy to open doors to see, instead of Roman, the bastard prince, the inconvenience.

Roman stopped shortly in front of his dresser, gripping the edges of it tightly. He looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his ever-so-slightly dishevelled hair and his coat of arms on the wall behind him. Roman shut his eyes for a moment and smoothed down his hair.

He thought about the woman he’d spoken to that morning and the tiniest flicker of doubt lodged in his chest. No matter what his father’s intentions were, the crops were still shrivelled and brown in the fields. If, just if, this was in fact a curse, people would starve and die if it wasn’t broken. Roman sighed.

There was no way to know for sure, without checking. And the only way to check was to go into the forest and search for the sorcerer or this Virgil person.

The Darkling Forest, a thick band of woods that stretched for miles, seemingly endless, the kingdom of the elves. If you could call it a kingdom, really. The elves were known for being solitary creatures, with a loose court that only met a few times a year. Roman supposed that made sense. He could barely stand seeing the nobles on a weekly basis, and elves were very nearly immortal. It might take him weeks to find an elf, months to find the one he wanted. And when he did, it would be over. The curse would be lifted and Roman would live out the rest of his days in the forest. If there was no curse, than he would appear to all the kingdom to have simply disappeared. It was common knowledge, after all, that no human who entered the realm of the fae could ever leave.

It was a death sentence for him to be right, a death sentence for the kingdom to be wrong.

With that thought, Roman knew his choice was made. He would always put the kingdom before him.

He clenched his fists and threw his head back, breathing in until his lungs were so full they ached, hissing it out in one massive exhalation.  Oh, how stupid he was.

He yanked open the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out his best fur lined cloak, tossing it onto his bed. He was already wearing good riding pants and boots, so he turned to the wall near the door, where he kept his armour and weapons. His best hunting knife, favourite bow and quiver and sword joined the pile on his bed. His camping roll was an obvious necessity. Armour, however, he wasn’t sure on. While practical and necessary in battle, he wasn’t sure how much good it would do him against a sorcerer. It would slow him down, for sure, and make him loud. After a moment of deliberation, he settled on a chain mail shirt and a round shield. After all, few men managed to touch him in full armour, so he should be far too fast for any man to mark out of it.

He stepped back and looked at the pile. As far as practical supplies went, he should have enough. He’d pick up some food in the kitchen before he left, but he was a decent hunter so he’d be able to manage. He pulled the chain mail on and tossed the cloak over his shoulders, fastening it at the throat. He slid the sword into his belt and grabbed an oilskin to wrap his bow and quiver in, clipping it to the side of his camping pack. All of the supplies Mouse would need would be in the stable for him to get. She’d probably love the Forest, he thought wryly.

Roman glanced out the window, checking the sun. It was only midday. He wanted to leave under the cover of night, so his father would not attempt to send knights with him. He would mean well, maybe, but Duran’s knights would jump at the opportunity to beat him up.

Roman sighed at his own eagerness and set down his pack, unclasping his cloak and belt and taking off his sword. There was still several hours at least before it would be dark enough to make a proper escape. He flopped back onto his bed. Maybe he should get some sleep. No one knew exactly what, besides the fair folk, inhabited the Darkling Forest, but Roman was sure he’d need to be fully alert to deal with it.

  


When he woke, the sky was dark outside his window. In the streets below, people still moved between lamps. Perfect timing for him, Roman thought with a grin. He’d be able to escape unnoticed from the castle, and a lone rider wouldn’t be odd at this time of evening. Roman jumped out of his bed, taking a moment to fix his hair and gather his pack, the tip toed out into the hallway. He pulled his hood up over his head and ducked into a low servant passage hidden behind a tapestry. He followed the narrow corridor down to the kitchens and begged some bread and salted meats from the cooks. If they noticed his odd behaviour and heavy farewells, they didn’t comment on it.

Leaving the kitchens he followed the familiar path out to the stables. The stable hand on duty smiled when he saw him and asked if he wanted any help. Roman shook his head and tapped a finger to his lips. The boy nodded his head and walked out of the stables with some empty pails, whistling as he headed to the well. 

Mouse was wide awake when he reached her and Roman swore she already knew the plan. She tossed her head and snorted at him when he put the blanket and saddle over her back. He tucked his camping pack into her saddle bags, but slung the quiver and bow over his back. He carefully positioned his sword so it wouldn’t fall even through hard riding, but would still be accessible to him if the need arose.

Swinging himself up onto her back, he lead Mouse out of the stall and towards the front of the stables. The stable-boy was coming back in and he sidestepped quickly, keeping up the charade of not seeing them.

“Good luck, Prince.” Roman thought he heard the boy whisper as they passed.

He kept Mouse at a slow pace until they passed the city gates, not wanting the echo of hooves across cobblestone to ring too loudly. Once they were on the dirt roads that trailed through the countryside, however, he gave Mouse more reign and let her begin to run. They worked up to a canter, the fields flying by before Roman’s eyes. Wind rushed through his hair, the night air chilly and biting.

Roman threw his head back with a feeling of elation, of freedom, and looked up at the stars above his head. They were bright, brighter than he’d ever seen them before. The moon was full next to them, shining white in the deep blue canvas of the sky. In the silvered light, the fields that rushed by beside them looked still and frozen, as if they were trapped in time. Roman wished he, too, could be trapped in time with them. To preserve this moment, this feeling of riding through his lands, likely the last time he would ever do this. The thought made him sad, but in resigned, purposeful sort of way. He didn’t regret his decision. He knew it would be hard, but sometimes the hardest things were the ones most worth it.

Roman let a bitter laugh escape him at that, knowing it was a lesson his own father didn’t understand. For all of his father’s prowess in battle, all of his glory as the great Warrior King, he had a marked proclivity for sending out his knights to undertake quests for him. Whether it was a simple patrol, a search for a magic cup, a journey to defeat a giant or simply competing in a tourney, his father always sent someone in his place to do it. Roman thought that was a mistake, made the King seem distant to his people, but he had never said that. Now, he supposed, he would never have the chance. At least Roman himself could not be accused of the same uninvolvement.

He turned Mouse off to the left, bringing her down a road that set them heading to the east, to the edge of the forest. The road became a little rockier and Mouse automatically slowed just a bit in order to keep her footing. The moon slunk higher into the sky and a massive black wall rose up in front of them, far enough away that Roman couldn’t make out any details, so it appeared as a towering monolith that stretched as far as the eye could see. Just in front of it, Roman could make out the silvery thread of a winding creek that twisted in front of the forest’s edge.

The closer they got to the forest, tighter Roman’s chest got. It was as if seeing the forest itself somehow made it all more real. By the time they had reached the open field that acted as a border between the forest and the farmlands, Mouse had slowed down to a walk, sensing Roman’s hesitation. Her hooves made quiet little splashes as she cautiously forded the creek, sending ripples across the smooth surface. The moon blinked up at him from the water.

Under her hooves, the grass crunched dryly. She stopped before they reached the very edge of the forest, looking down at the twisted roots that crept outward from the massive trees. In between thick trunks, vines suffocated wild hedges, the stems as thick as Roman’s wrist in some places. Roman looked up and down the edge of the branches, looking for a break in the foliage. He knew there was an entrance, all the local people had told him so, but he wasn’t exactly sure where. Instinct seemed to pull him towards where the creek dipped towards the woods, so Roman trusted the feeling and nudged Mouse in that direction.

Sure enough, there was a break in the hedges and vines. The path within was oddly well lit, the patches of moonlight that were scattered on the forest floor, streaming in from the breaks in the canopy above seemed to glow brighter than they should have. Roman hesitated, then nudged Mouse forward into the Darkling Forest with a sigh. He shut his eyes as they crossed under the first knarled branch. Mouse plodded along the path and Roman turned to look over her back at the creek and the farmlands behind them. Everything seemed so peaceful and close, as if Roman could simply change his mind, turn around, and come back out. He was almost tempted to try it.

But he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave the forest. Whether the prevention came in the form of a curse that would kill him the moment he tried, an invisible barrier that couldn’t be passed, or a hidden monster that guarded the entrance, Roman knew he would never cross under those branches again. His chest ached, so he turned around to look ahead of them and tried to put all that he had just lost out of his mind.

The forest was quiet around him, the faintest buzz of insects kept it from being eerie. The air smelled like dirt and rain and something else vaguely sweet. It wasn’t much colder than the countryside had been, but Roman drew his cloak more firmly around him anyway. The path twisted, and Roman had to duck to avoid the moss that dripped from the tree branches. At first, Roman thought the moss was glowing, but when he cautiously tapped it with a finger, a little blue light floated away.

As if following the first one, other little glowing specks came out of the moss, drifting around aimlessly in the air like spectral leaves. One light, yellow instead of blue, drifted out in front of Mouse, as if trying to guide them down the path. The yellow light was bigger than the others and moved more jerkily, more deliberately. Roman watched it with fascination, reaching out a hand to see if he could touch it. His index finger poked the sphere, softly, and in the instant before the light could jerk away in surprise, Roman could have sworn he felt scales.

The lights faded slowly the further Roman travelled into the forest, the yellow one being the last to disappear. The forest fell silent again, but it was in oppressive weight this time. After a few minutes of riding, Roman realised the sounds of insects had disappeared.

Mouse’s ears pricked up at some noise behind them and Roman resisted the urge to turn around. There was nothing behind them, he told himself, he was just on edge because of the forest.

A branch cracked behind them.

Roman’s fingers tightened on the reins and the saddle horn.

At the sound of a low growl, Roman’s resolve finally broke and he snapped his head around to stare at the path behind them. At first, he couldn’t see anything. The path was empty, the trees on either side were still.

Roman’s eyes flicked nervously from shadow to shadow, though Mouse kept moving forward. Another stick snapped somewhere to the left. Roman tugged on the reins and Mouse stopped, shifting uncertainly as she turned her head around to look at him.

The darkness seemed to fold out in three places along the path and slowly, shapes came into focus. Flashes of sleek, spotted fur that melded oddly into scales and a webbed frill melded out of the darkness. Feline fangs flashed in the moonlight, and enormous paws the size of Roman’s head slowly stalked out into the path. When all three of the massive cats were fully in the path, staring at Roman with luminous purple eyes, they open their maws in sync and let out deep grumbles.

Mouse neighed, her alarm echoing Roman’s. He whirled, leaning over her neck, and she seemed to get the message, breaking into an unguided run down the path. He could hear them running behind them, snarls and snaps giving their pursuit through the forest away. The path wound through the woods, each turn seeming sharp and sudden. Out of the darkness, the trunk of a massive tree rose up in the middle of the trail, startling Roman. Mouse reared, throwing him to the ground, but the forest around them was too thick for her to escape, so she simply continued to buck as the cats crept closer.

A whistling noise bit through the air and one of the cats yelped, jerking off to the side as if it had been struck by something. The trio turned to stare into the darkness behind them. Roman strained his eyes to see what they were looking at, but his eyes weren’t quite that good. Something else whistled out of the darkness, embedding itself in the ground between the cats and Roman. An arrow, fletched with two white feathers and one black one.

Another whistling sound and one of the cats whimpered. The trio looked at Roman, snarled one last time, and vanished into the forest again. Leaves crunched gently and a tall figure appeared out of the dark. It was a stag, a massive animal with a spiralling crown of antlers. Black liquid eyes blinked at him steadily in the moonlight. As the animal got closer, Roman realised it had a rider.

The figure on the stag’s back swung himself off with an unearthly grace as they got closer. They moved towards Roman with smooth, even strides. Mouse stopped bucking, but still tossed her head nervously. The figure held up a pale hand, finger slim, and Mouse calmed. The hand was then offered to Roman, and he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet with shocking strength. As he stood up, he finally got a good look at his rescuer.

Fair skin, slanting pale eyes, and high cheekbones framed by fine dark hair. Thin dark lines traced paths around their eyes, spiky and smooth but intentional. Their hair was held away from their face by a circlet crafted like a ring of vines. Roman followed the line of the circlet to the person’s hairline and let out a sharp gasp at their slender, tapered ears.

His rescuer raised a delicate eyebrow and spoke in a rich, undeniably masculine voice with a rolling accent. “You are human.”

“And you are an elf.” Roman answer back, his heart still racing.

“Indeed.” The elf peered at him with those striking eyes. “Interesting.”


End file.
